Part 35 (1/2)

”I'm going to finance a consolidation of all the smaller cigar stores in the city,” he then explained. ”I expect to buy several for spot cash and put in charge of them managers who know their business. The rest I am going to allow to purchase shares in the consolidation, with the value of their stock and good will, so that altogether we shall have a quarter-of-a-million-dollar corporation. With this enormous buying power I intend to get the lowest spot-cash discount on all goods, manufacture a few good brands, cut rates and control the cigar business of this town. But I'm going to be fair to every man. I'll give you eight hundred dollars for your business, in cold coin.”

The day before, had any providentially sent stranger offered Ed Nickel eight hundred dollars in real money for his store, he would have jumped at the chance, and with the purchase price would have opened a better one in some other part of the town. Now it suddenly occurred to him----

”And if I don't sell or come in I get froze out, I suppose,” he gloomily opined. ”That's the regulation poor man's chance. But how are you going to work this consolidation, anyhow?”

”The same plan upon which all successful organizations are put together,” patiently explained the eminent financier whose resplendent carriage was waiting outside. ”For instance, five of us organize a holding company. Having incorporated for, say, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, I buy your business for eight hundred dollars in stock of the new corporation, fit it up new till it glitters, and put you in charge of it. A hundred other stores go in on the same proposition, their valuations varying according to their location, their stock, and the volume of business their books can show. You get a salary of just as much as you can prove you're making now, and every three months the business is footed up and a dividend is paid. The difference is just this. The cigars for which you now pay thirty-five dollars a thousand, you will get for twenty-eight and less, and so on down the line. Your profits will be increased nearly a hundred per cent., and all financial worry will be lifted off your shoulders.”

Ed Nickel suddenly awoke to the fact that the flabby solitaire player was pressed closely upon one side of the eminent financier, and the apathetic young man upon the other, both drinking in every word, and quivering.

”Come in the back room,” invited Mr. Nickel, and on two reeking stools, with tobacco sc.r.a.ps strewn all about them, they sat down to really ”get together.” Patiently the energetic man of wealth went over the proposition again, point by point, and the cigar maker enumerated these upon his fingers until he got it quite clear in his mind that his business was not to pa.s.s out of his hands at all. If it was put in at a valuation of eight hundred dollars, he received a salary equal to his present earnings for taking care of it, and also the net profits on eight hundred dollars worth of stock. It was a great scheme! It would put all the goods he wanted upon his shelves. It would brighten up his place of business and he would no longer have the aggravation of knowing that rich dealers, just because they were rich, could buy cigars a shameful per cent. cheaper than he could. Moreover, there sat Wallingford, a wonderful argument in himself! When he had fully grasped the idea Mr. Nickel was enthusiastic.

”Of course I'll come in!” said he. ”Surest thing, you know!”

”Suit yourself,” said J. Rufus, with vast indifference. ”I have a little agreement that I'll bring around in a couple of days to let you see, and then you may finally decide. By the way, Mr. Nickel, I may need you for one of the original five incorporators, and as a director for the first year.”

Mr. Nickel hesitated.

”That'll cost me something, won't it?” he wanted to know.

Mr. Wallingford laughed.

”A little bit,” he admitted. ”But there are ways to get it back. For instance, as one of the directors I do not suppose there would be any particular harm in selling your business to the consolidation for a thousand in place of eight hundred.”

The first stock subscriber to the Retail Cigar Dealers' Consolidation became as knowingly jovial as the genial promoter.

”It listens good to me,” he declared, and shook hands.

The big man got up to go, but turned and came back.

”By the way,” said he, ”I don't know the cigar men in this town, and if you have a couple of friends in the business who would like to help form this incorporation with the same advantages you have, let's go see them.”

Mr. Nickel was already throwing off his ap.r.o.n and eye shade, and now he took his coat and hat from their hook.

”I've got two of them, and they ain't too darned smart, either,” he stated, showing wise forethought in that last remark; then, putting the flabby man in charge of the store, he went out and _rode in that carriage_!

CHAPTER XXVII

MR. WALLINGFORD GAMBLES A BIT AND PICKS UP AN UNSOLICITED PARTNER

In the smart carriage Mr. Wallingford took Mr. Nickel and his two friends down to his hotel for lunch to talk over the final steps in the great consolidation. The chief thing the three remembered when they left the hotel was that they had been most liberally treated in the matter of extravagant food and drink, and that the lunch had cost over twenty dollars! Also they recalled that the distinguished-looking head waiter had come over to their table half a dozen times to see that everything was served at the proper minute and in the pink of condition. n.o.body but a rich man could command that sort of attention, and they left the table not only willing but thankful to take any business tonic this commercial genius should prescribe. As they pa.s.sed the desk, the manager called Mr.

Wallingford to him, and the great promoter, instantly bidding his friends good-by, promised to see them to-morrow. Then he walked back to the manager.

”Good morning, Senator,” said that official, shaking hands. ”How are they treating you? Nicely?”

”Very well, indeed,” replied Wallingford, ”except I'd like to have corner rooms if I could get them.”

”I know; you spoke of that last week. I've been trying to secure them for you, but those apartments are always dated so far ahead. I think the corner suite on the second floor will be vacant in a day or so, though, and I'll let you know. By the way, Mr. Wallingford”--this in the most pleasantly confidential tone imaginable--”I'm afraid I'll have to draw on you. The proprietor is a little strict about his rules, and you have been here two weeks to-day.”

”Is that so?” exclaimed Wallingford, very much surprised. ”I'll have to look after that,” and he reached out his hand with courteous alacrity for the bill which the manager was handing to him. Without the quiver of an eye-lash he glanced over the items and stuck the bill in his pocket.